


Mail Jeevas

by shingekinopico



Category: Death Note
Genre: Bulimia, Escapism, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, One Shot, POV First Person, Run-On Sentences, Swearing, Wammy House
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 14:32:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1095076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shingekinopico/pseuds/shingekinopico
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>According to canon references, Matt is a "gamer" who "doesn't like the outside world". My interpretation of this is that he is an escapist who tries to avoid reality. What kinds of thoughts does he try so hard to avoid dealing with?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mail Jeevas

I hate thinking. Unfortunately I was cursed with being the third best thinker at Wammy’s, the second best kisser and the  
first best nothing. I can un-think for up to 19 hours a day; and then when the sun decides to be a bitch every some-time-  
in-the-day and blind my squinting, drowsy self, my mind goes home to its supernova of bullshit and starts spewing all this  
nonsense that other people would normally discuss with their friends and refer to as “dreams” and write down as soon as  
they wake up so they won’t lose it as the years go by.

It’s interesting to watch people do people things because at the end of the day I don’t feel at all like a person and I  
begin to pretend to have debates with myself about whether or not people really exist. Everybody; you, I, they, are  
delusional. Who gives a crap.

I want to stop thinking overall and destroy my mind but apparently that’s impossible so I destroy my body instead. I don’t  
care; cigarettes taste awful and that awful is good. There are some things that I like to think about. No, screw that.  
There’s only one thing - it’s Mello. I am in love with that boy:

1\. I don’t like it when we talk about hot girls, and he doesn't consider that some people have different tastes in girls,  
such as my taste which is not girls.  
2\. It pisses me off when he talks about his morals because I'm supposed to put up an act in which I think all morals are  
bullshit.  
3\. I hate it when he changes the wifi password and doesn’t ask permission from me to do so first, because I come up with  
the best and most memorable wifi passwords such as “assword” and “mellosdick” (I’I'm a fan of good humour, you  
see).  


There was that one time at Wammy’s when Mello and I were kids, and we kissed, and we kissed again and the second kiss was  
not like the first because we both pretended that we didn’t know what we were doing and that one of us was more aroused  
than the other. But we both did know, and I thank Wammy’s for giving me access to a computer with a decent Internet  
connection and knowing better than to monitor it so I could find some "interesting" websites to share with the other dirty  
boys. Since then, Mello and I would kiss many times and I could taste it in his breath that he felt guilty for not feeling  
guilty about it, and the other things we've done.

There was that one time at Wammy’s when Linda asked Near to join the other kids and play outside and he kindly declined.  
She thought he was lonely and that it would do him some good to socialize. I’m lying. It was not one time. It was many. She  
kept trying to get him involved in her sick games and he preferred to play his own. I lied again. She never cared whether  
or not Near was lonely. She just wanted to see how brightly she could illuminate her false charm and try to make the  
impossible possible, by getting Near to “socialize” (which is the previously mentioned Impossible.) Maybe charm just  
doesn't work on that lil’ shit Near, and maybe Linda was a “bad person” after all.

And then there was that one time at Wammy’s when we were all a bit older and I witnessed Linda shoving a finger or two  
down her throat in front of a toilet right after dinner. The dinner came spilling out of her lying mouth and she never  
properly ate again. Her habit of shoving her fingers into the inside of her throat stopped as she found a new game -  
shoving dicks down her throat instead. Linda would pull the hem of her short skirt all the way up to her 68cm waist and  
fasten her belt tightly to catch the attention of the boys (and the girls) and that left marks on her skin. As a teenager,  
she always had so many marks on her skin. 

I truly do never think about anything at all, but fuckin’ hell, now that I do think about it, Linda was  
always just as cold and dead as Near’s eyes and Mello’s self-worth and that familiar fucker Mail Jeevas’ brain.


End file.
